


The Chase (or The One with Fantastical Beasts and Annoyed Fairies)

by Detochkina



Series: Mr & Mr Smith [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mystery, Romance, Spies & Secret Agents, Technology, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 21:24:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9516824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Detochkina/pseuds/Detochkina
Summary: Previously in the series:Merlin Emrys, an agent of the Agency of Magic, had a shotgun wedding in Vegas while on a mission to retrieve a powerful artifact. At the time, he didn't know that his "other half" was a Pendragon and an officer of the competing organization, the Bureau of Corrections. Moreover, their marriage appeared to be largely due to the influence of a potent potion they both were subjected to; but there was a snag - their attraction didn't stop and only grew stronger long after the potion wore off.As their professional lives clashed and they learned the truth about each other, they made a painful choice to break up. It took some serious meddling from Morgana to get them talking again.Morgana is not the only one who has special plans for them. Elena is kidnapped and both Merlin and Arthur are issued an ultimatum - the abductors demand delivery of two pieces of the Triskelion in exchange for Elena. The first piece, kept at the Agency, is collected without much fuss, the second -- stored at the Bureau -- is a whole different story, and a serious challenge Merlin and Arthur can't afford to fail. Time is running out to get Elena back...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Candymacaron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candymacaron/gifts).



> Hello! It's been a while... Thank you for your patient wait and for all the wonderful comments and your messages inquiring about the story. I've picked it up again and would love to finish it. Hope it's worth the wait!  
> This is Chapter 1, Part 5 of the series.  
> It's highly advised that you read the previous parts of this series if you'd like to keep up with what's going on. Otherwise, enjoy the ride and boys being protective and brave.  
> As always, huge love and thanks to my bestie [Candymacaron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candymacaron/works) for the [brilliant art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2902664) for this story. Please make sure to leave Candy lots of love; more is being added as the story progresses and all pieces are precious!  
> Also, enormous appreciation to my fave beta[ M](https://twitter.com/EditsandSnark), thank you for your incredible support and patience!  
> If something doesn't add up, drop me a line, I'll explain or fix it. Thank you for reading!  
>  **Disclaimer:** No infringement intended. The characters are not mine.

****

They breathe out and it's done.

The door behind them clicks shut, and they find themselves on the dimly lit landing, Arthur’s shoulder bumping slightly into Merlin’s.

A light bulb flickers above their heads and casts an unnaturally yellow shadow on them and on the stairs under their feet. Beyond that is damp, silent darkness, and no matter how long they stare into it, their eyes are not adjusting.

Arthur shifts, subtly moving in front of Merlin. Somewhere ahead, something makes a hissing sound and Arthur immediately reaches behind his back, no doubt for his gun.

Merlin grabs Arthur’s elbow. “Arthur, wait. _Wait_.”

Arthur glances at him. “What?”

“Magic,” Merlin says. “I feel its presence.”

Arthur relaxes a little, breathing out. “It’s no wonder. This is where magic is kept.”

“Yes, but it’s--" Merlin hesitates.

"It’s what?"

“The feeling is different. Not like at the gallery...” Merlin adjusts the watch on his wrist, listening to what he feels inside while staring ahead, and can't give it a name. He just knows magic is _here_ , and it's strong, but because of the shield, he can't figure out the nature of it. It's all coming in as a stream of indecipherable noise -- an unceasing, solid pressure on his shield. He shakes his head, frustrated. “Just don’t leave my side.”

Arthur huffs softly. “Same goes for you.”

Merlin concedes. “Agreed. Let’s move?”

“As soon as we're able to see.”

Luckily, they’re not living in medieval times and magic’s not required to produce light. All it takes to do so is to turn on the flashlight on their devices.

“Ah-ha,” Arthur says after fumbling with his mobile so it lights up.

Merlin scoffs. “You sound like pushing the ‘on’ button is such a great accomplishment.”

“In near darkness. Give me a break,” Arthur grumbles and points his mobile in front of them. It's not as bright as a real torch, but close enough.

Merlin doesn’t know what he expected to see here, but he’s thought of it so many times. Dreamed even, about turning up at the Bureau with a warrant and a declaration about his intent to seize whatever artifacts Uther Pendragon has kept here to eventually destroy. Merlin had a passionate, magic-defending speech, even, and if in some of his dreams he was riding a white horse with the wind blowing in his face, sending a red knight’s cape on his shoulders billowing like an impressive sail as he blasted magic’s enemies, that wasn’t his fault. One can dream, right? But this isn’t how it turns out.

There are no knights or monsters, and there’s no evil mastermind offering a fair fight for the winner to take all. Merlin and Arthur are alone, in the middle of what Merlin can only describe as a cellar with soft ground covered with sand under their feet, and as far as the light lets them see, rows of bars on either side of them stretching from floor to ceiling. It’s not even a cellar -- it’s a bloody prison.

For magic.

Holding his breath, Merlin goes closer to the bars of the nearest cell, his magic rolling wildly under the seal of his shield, protesting at something, and he closes his eyes for a moment, hoping that what he thinks he sees is not real. That it’s shadows playing a trick.

Arthur swears behind him. “Is this… Merlin…”

Merlin opens his eyes, facing the truth. “The evidence room, you said? It's not even a bloody vault, Arthur. Look at all these artifacts dumped together. In _cages_.” His voice is shaking badly and so is his hand, the light jumping from one shelf, full of items piled on each other, to another behind the wall of bars. “Good god! Even if not for magic, a lot of the artifacts are rare because they have an incredible historical value. They must be appropriately cared for."

Merlin reaches out, touching the bars, and hisses at contact, jerking his hand back to his chest.

"What is it, Merlin?" Arthur grabs Merlin's hand, inspecting it with the light. The tips of his pointer and middle fingers are pulsing-red. "Poison?"

"No, this is an electrical fence. Low voltage," Merlin observes, wincing and pulling his hand back. "It's okay."

He doesn't care about the discomfort, his eyes burning into something on the ground behind the protective fence -- a small bag.

He squats down and carefully pushes his fingers between the bars, trying not to touch them, reaching for the bag, a rough material under his fingertips feeling like it's made of burlap. _Burlap._ Is this the best the Bureau can do?

"Merlin," Arthur starts protesting, freezing with his hand outstretched to Merlin.

"Shhh." Carefully, Merlin tries to snag the bag, but his knuckles graze against the bar; he's struck with the pain again and curses.

“My god, Arthur,” he breathes, reading the label on the piece of rope tied around the bag. “It’s… There's a Seolfor Thread Pendant inside.”

Arthur crouches next to Merlin. “I know of it.”

“It was you who retrieved it, wasn't it?” Merlin points the light at Arthur's face.

Arthur's dark eyes meet Merlin's. There are grim lines around his mouth. He doesn't blink, nodding slowly. “Yes, it was. Months ago. And it should've been destroyed by now. Father told me its magic was evil. That its purpose was to corrupt any good deed and make it wicked. That magic like this is why it can’t be trusted. It shouldn’t exist.”

Clenching his teeth, Merlin reaches for the artifact again, jamming his hand between the bars as far as he can go, the currents of electricity jabbing him, searing him. Merlin chokes on a sob but doesn't give up, his fingers seeking feverishly for the bag. He's shaking from being continuously shocked, his eyes crossing, but his thoughts have never been more clear. “He’s wrong!" he grits out. "This pendant can heal if in the right hands. It can make a healing spell ten times stronger. It can help people. I could make it so.”

Arthur wraps his fingers above Merlin’s wrist, pulling. “Merlin, I'm sorry. I believe you, and I swear to you I didn’t know. I'm ashamed I've been a part of this place. Please let go.”

“No.” Merlin manages to pick up the artifact by hooking a pinky through the rope, but it slips away again as soon as he starts pulling his hand out. He falls back in defeat and slams his fist on the ground. “Goddammit!”

“Merlin, look at me,” Arthur insists, touching his cheek.

When Merlin turns to him, Arthur wipes wet tracks off his chin, his eyes gleaming with compassion. “I promise you, Merlin, we’ll come back here for them. We’ll find a way. Just not today.”

Looking around at this blatant, deliberate devastation of artifacts, Merlin can't consider this as anything else but magic's "death row", and of Uther as its executioner. Who gave him the right? He jerks his shoulder. Even if Uther has lied before about destroying the artifacts, he will do so after tonight to cover his tracks. "It will be too late.”

Arthur nods. “Yes, for some of them. It will be, I’m sorry. But if we don’t focus now and find what we came here for, it will be too late for Elena. You have to choose.”

Merlin gulps for air, his heart shattering. “What kind of a choice is that? How is it fair?”

“It’s not. Doesn’t mean we can do both.”

“Maybe we can,” Merlin insists, considering all options at once. He feels sick -- sick to his stomach, overwhelmed with pain, his protesting magic going loose under the shield, and the magic around them screaming to be released.

Arthur pulls for Merlin to get up. “Yeah? Then tell me. You’ve already calculated the outcome, I’m sure. In your best case, what are our chances to escape this place unnoticed and unharmed if instead of taking one Triskelion piece, we load ourselves with magical artifacts?”

Merlin bites down on his lip.

“Merlin, come on. Your best estimate,” Arthur prods. “Factor in that without both pieces of the Triskelion, Elena’s got no chance. Getting Elena free is still our success criteria. Isn’t it?”

Merlin can’t help a smile. “Arthur, stop talking dirty to me.”

Arthur huffs a small laugh. “I will if you start thinking. Well?”

“Twelve percent.”

“Twelve percent… Have you considered Gwaine?”

“Yeah, Gwaine will definitely kill me, and before I even make it to jail.”

“Okay. So. Your decision. What do you want us to do?" Arthur asks calmly.

Merlin thinks that he loves him. For this question exactly, for letting him choose while making a promise to still be here regardless of Merlin's choice. He loves Arthur and he wants to deserve him.

Something hisses behind their backs, but no matter how quiet they stay or how hard they peer into the darkness, they can't see anything, and the sound doesn't happen again.

  

~LDN~

 

Merlin's shielding device has serious limitations: while he feels magic present here, he can't tell one artifact from another, which essentially makes him useless. Not something he's happy to admit.

They make an exploring round along the bars, damp sand gritting softly under their feet. Their mobiles are the only sources of light. The ceiling is low and the air is stilted, and they have to keep slapping off mosquitoes that buzz annoyingly around them. Merlin doesn't try to touch anything again. In a short amount of time, they realise that this place stores more than just magical artifacts. A lot more, and not just as pieces of evidence. In the row of locked cells, they also find shelves with mounds of uniform and civilian clothes and shoes, stacks of canned food, kitchen and garden supplies, cans of paint. There are old phones, computers and monitors, piles of small pieces of office furniture: lamps, chairs, picture frames, rolled-up rugs. There are boxes on the floor, spilling with unidentifiable junk. Basically, Uther is a hoarder.

"If there’s a system to this madness, it’s unbeknownst to me. How do we find the Triskelion in all this mess?" Arthur asks in a voice full of disgust. He directs the light of his mobile into another cell, catching more inventory on the shelves and in boxes, full to the brim, on the ground.

"We won't, searching like this. Not in time. But I know it's here. I can't describe it, but I feel its presence. It's buried somewhere here under all this useless bollocks and...” Merlin chews on the inside of his cheek. “I see artifacts here that were recovered years ago. There was never a big archive break-in at the Bureau, was there?”

Arthur stares at him. “A break-in?”

Merlin looks around, his light jumping as he turns. “Yes, about nine months ago? Uther insisted on tightening the laws for handling magical artifacts after an alleged archive theft, which led to his demand to start destroying them upon retrieval."  Merlin raises his voice. "He lied about being robbed, didn’t he? He made it up to serve his agenda.”

Arthur shakes his head. “I don’t know, Merlin, I’m sorry. I’d only been working here for about eight months then. It was never mentioned to me.”

“It was a big deal. There’s no way you wouldn’t have known if it were true.” Merlin rocks on his feet. “So basically, Uther gave himself a license to do whatever he pleased with the artifacts. He kept what he still deemed useful to him, destroying the rest.” He shakes a fist. “Arthur, I swear to God, when I see him--"

"I can try to find the source of the electrical power here," Arthur suggests quickly.

Merlin takes a few deep breaths to push the rage down. It helps. Calmer, he says, "You know what happens even if you find it."

"Shutting the fence down will trip the alarm, but not if I disable it first."

Merlin nods. "Do it."

That will solve only one part of their problem, though.

"I’ll be back soon, Merlin," Arthur says, hesitating. He touches the back of Merlin’s hand, avoiding his knuckles and his wrist bone, raw with burns. "You can heal yourself, right?"

Merlin snorts. "Yeah, later. Go. Hurry. I’ll stay here and look around some more.”

Arthur trudges back in the direction they came from.

Merlin whirls around as soon as he hears another low hiss, as if pressure's been released from the pipes. It's short-lived, and then it's quiet again.

"Are you there yet?" Gwaine asks through the comm.

Merlin taps his just to say, "Yes, we're in, nothing else to report yet. Over."

He doesn’t need distractions from Gwaine, and Arthur better hurry. As if on cue, Merlin hears a loud knock that rolls like a wave, resonating through the metal bars. _Click, click, click, click._ The cells are unlocking. And there's no alarm.

"That's my brilliant partner," Merlin murmurs, smiling, and a few moments later, he hears Arthur's hasty but careful steps.

"So? What did I tell you?" A grinning Arthur appears before Merlin. "Aren't I the best?"

"You'll do," Merlin says, keeping his tone dry, but he's not able to contain a spreading smile.

"Now what?" Arthur asks.

"Now we find what we came here for."

By the end of the second hour of going through boxes and piles of mostly non-magical and useless things, they both know this search is futile and they need to revise their plan.

"You kind of look like Gwaine right now," Arthur comments, bringing his lit-up phone higher  between them.

Scoffing, Merlin asks, "How is that?"

"Like you're about to suggest something bonkers."

"That's Gwaine's permanent state, and I don't do that," Merlin protests, wiping his brow and looking around.

Arthur wiggles the mobile, inviting him. "Go on then, say it, and let me be the judge."

Merlin sighs dramatically. "Fine. I do have another idea. We've been going at it for…” Merlin adjusts his watch. “An hour and fifty-six minutes, and this is only the sixth cell..."

"Stating the obvious, Merlin. And?"

"The only way to find the Triskelion here on time is to use magic. And since my senses are limited right now-- No, wait." Merlin holds up his hand to stop an about-to-protest Arthur. "Don’t worry, I'm not going to take off my watch, even though I truly, utterly hate having this thing on. I know what would happen if I did that -- I’d be a sitting duck. You, however..."

"What about me?" Arthur asks.

Merlin pointedly looks at the device in Arthur's hand.

"What...” Arthur frowns. “Wait..." He stares at Merlin, then at his mobile. "You want _me_ to use magic?"

"Yes... Well, kind of. We're going to do a little trick."

"What trick?"

"You won't incant the spell this time. It’s my magic, and I don’t always have to use spells. It will take a bit longer, but if you just concentrate and think it... I told you, my magic is intuitive: the device should turn on the magic-detection function by merely tuning to your heartbeat. By now, it already knows you. The amount of magic produced as a result will be so insignificant, it’ll be impossible to discern from so many other artifacts already here."

Arthur frowns. "That’s the thing, actually -- even with the detection on, how will I recognise the Triskelion? This place must be overflowing with magic."

Merlin smiles softly. "You did it earlier. With Gaius."

Arthur scoffs. "Right. So, as soon as I feel like puking, we'll know we’ve found the piece?"

"Yep."

"Are you sure it'll work? What if you're wrong and whatever is guarding the artifacts senses what I’m doing?" Arthur asks, not looking worried, just intrigued, which Merlin finds very hot at this least appropriate moment.

He clears his throat. "Arthur, you should know by now, I always have a plan B."

  

~LDN~

 

Arthur is too nervous to successfully enable the magic-detection function without using the spell right away, and even when the phone blinks off and on, Merlin can’t tell right away if it worked. But when they step into the next cell, his eyes widen and he gasps in triumph. "I know it's here, Merlin. I _feel_ it."

"Don't hesitate about barfing into those." Merlin points at the large open box with the Bureau uniform boots, sitting in the corner.

"Leave a present for my father? I’m afraid he won’t be the one suffering from it." Arthur smiles, but his voice is strained. He turns around, breathing through his nose. "Here. It's somewhere here. Right..." He shoves several boxes aside on one of the shelves, hovers over one sitting in the back for a moment, and, pulling it out, dives into it. “Here!” He tugs on a strip of leather, snatching a small satchel out. "It’s even in the same bag." He opens it hastily, retrieving something that looks like a bright-yellow swirl. The Triskelion. Arthur glances at the evidence tag attached to it and rips it off, throwing it away. “This is it!” He waves the artifact like a winner’s flag above his head in triumph.

"Brilliant, Arthur. You're amazing!" Merlin breathes. “God...” Even with his magic shielded, it responds to their priceless find by whining deep in his gut, echoing in his very bones.

Merlin pulls out the box from his pocket and carefully takes out the other piece. Touching the artifact with his bare hand for the first time is giving him whiplash. He gestures to Arthur and they bring both pieces under the light to compare, their breaths held in, smooth gold gleaming richly between their fingers. The letters, engraved on both sides, speak of something foreign and ancient, and probably very wise, but the language is indecipherable. Merlin sighs. He can see that the pieces are identical, matching in shape, size, and the letters’ scratchy handwork.

He taps the comm. "G, we're coming up. Be ready." And he then looks again at Arthur, ecstatic. "We're clear, Arthur. It worked."

Smiling, Arthur reverently wraps both legs of the Triskelion into a piece of cloth he finds in the same box and, placing them back into the satchel, hands the precious parcel to Merlin. "Stop gloating."

 

~LDN~

 

Merlin should know by now to not ever jinx his luck before a mission is over, but he's too happy, too proud of his beaming partner to sense the danger right away, and there's also the matter of the shield... So as they step outside of the cell, smiling, it's right into the waiting claws of a trap, literally, realising it a moment too late.

A huge, four-legged, black monster that cannot be of this world -- only from the magical realm -- spreads its wings and hisses, arching its back at them. Admittedly, even in its ferocity, it has a certain feline grace to it. Merlin hisses back, bending his knees and spreading his arms in a protective stance.

"What the buggering hell is that?" Arthur whispers furiously, pulling his gun out of the holster and Merlin with him into retreat.

Merlin refuses to move. He returns a scowl at the creature as it bares its sharp fangs.

"I knew no sorcerer would work for Uther," Merlin says through his teeth, his nostrils flaring. "And there could be no magical security device in his possession similar to mine. I hoped Uther's so-called 'security backed up by magic' was all a bluff. Or it had to be something like this -- a wild, distraught..." he squints his eyes, noting a chain linked around the neck, "...bound creature." He glances at Arthur. "And it's probably always hungry."

Arthur squeaks, "What? I'm not bloody dying from being eaten by _that_."

"No," Merlin agrees. "Don't you see? It's on a leash."

"It also has more teeth than a shark," Arthur comments but follows Merlin, who tiptoes closer to the snarling beast. "And I think it can fly!"

"I don't see it flying, though," Merlin says, his eyes slowly studying the beast from its wings down to its claws. He can't help the realisation that he's responding somewhat defensively. This is _magic_ \-- in whatever form -- and he can't hurt magic. Not intentionally. "I don't think she can."

Arthur glances at him in surprise. "She?"

Merlin tilts his head, humming. "Yes, I think it's a 'she'. Look at her beautiful eyes."

"You're losing it, Merlin. Her _eyes_?" Arthur points the gun at the creature when it makes a soft, snuffling noise directed at Merlin. "What about those teeth and those claws?"

"It’s not her fault she's here," Merlin says, voicing a thought spurred by his magic -- even suppressed by the shield, it's still very much his internal driver. "I don't think she means to attack us. She thinks we're attacking _her_. She's scared."

"Are you reading the beast's mind?" Arthur asks, not taking his eyes off it.

"No."

"Then you don't know what it feels or thinks. But I'm telling you," Arthur raises his voice, "if it makes a single threatening move, I'll shoot without hesitation."

As if understanding what Arthur is saying, the creature growls and yanks at the chain wrapped around its short, slick neck. The chain runs under Arthur and Merlin's feet, leading who knows where behind them. Arthur trips on it, and as he starts to fall, he drops his device and fires his gun.

The beast screeches as if in terror and pounces, snapping its jaws at them several times, teeth grazing Merlin's side. Arthur scoots away on his arse, snatching Merlin with him, and bounces back to his feet. He blindly fires two more shots at the beast, and the bullets penetrate the dark space, creating two bright lines, one hitting the target with an unpleasant, smacking noise, sending the creature loudly yelping like a wounded dog. It flails its wings in a futile motion and, losing balance, falls to the side, hitting the ground with a thud.

Whirling around, Arthur picks up his still lit-up device from the ground and gasps at the sight of Merlin's torn jumper. "You're hurt!"

But as soon as Arthur raises the gun at the creature again, Merlin grabs his hand. "Stop! I'm not harmed! Your armour worked!"

Arthur rakes his eyes over Merlin, the protective vest on him untouched indeed, and, sighing in relief, he starts to say something -- probably patronising -- but the creature yanks at the chain again, this time trying to crawl away. The leash isn't giving. The beast howls, a long, anguished sound of pain, and begins to lick at its wounded, bleeding paw.

"Arthur, no more shooting, please! Do you want to know what she feels?" Merlin asks. "Listen to her through the magic in your device."

Frowning, Arthur looks at the beast, and when Merlin nudges his hand, he sighs and closes his eyes. A few moments later, his face contorts into a miserable expression. "Oh god. She's _crying_. Like she's human."

"Because she is," Merlin says. "Look."

Arthur blinks at the image before them -- at the frail form of a girl, naked, caked in dirt, and shivering on the ground, curled into a ball. A chain hangs loosely around her neck.

"Merlin," Arthur gasps, “what have I done?” Dropping his gun, he rushes to her. He pulls on the chain over her head, but it refuses to come off, stuck, so he tugs off his jumper and covers her. "She's just a girl. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't know. I didn't know!" On his knees before the girl, he runs his hands roughly through his hair and looks at Merlin pleadingly.

The girl whimpers and his attention snaps back to her. He turns her carefully as she cries out, clutching her leg and chanting with her eyes scrunched up, "No. Please, please. No."

Merlin crouches next to her, gently pushing her dark, tangled hair off her face, making soothing noises. "She's also magic, Arthur. Does she deserve less empathy because of that?"

Arthur's face crumples. "No. Of course not. She's bleeding." He taps his comm. "Percy, I need you down here, quickly.

"I'm so sorry. I should've listened to you, Merlin." He pulls at the hem of his shirt, ripping a slice of the fabric, and ties it above the wound on the girl's leg to slow the bleeding. "Stay with us. Stay with us," he begs. "What is your name?"

The girl opens her eyes with effort, panting. "Freya," she says, voice barely above a whisper.

"Freya... What a beautiful name," Arthur murmurs, tender, sincere. "You're going to be okay, I promise."

Merlin can't watch these two people suffer. One from a broken heart, crushed with guilt, and the other -- half-bare, wounded, and terrified.

"Arthur," he calls softly. "I'm going to release my magic and use a healing spell."

Arthur's whole body jolts while he holds Freya. He looks at Merlin with a frown, torn. "Merlin... Your strength..."

Merlin smiles. "I'm good. I'm a lot stronger than everyone thinks."

And even if it's not true, there's only one way to find out. Saving the haunted, injured girl is worth it. His magic will be well spent.

He pulls off the watch, wincing at the onslaught of magic from every direction at once, overwhelming him, and takes a deep breath through his nose. This is not going to be easy.

“But what if it triggers some other alarm we don’t know about?” Arthur asks, eyes flicking from Merlin to Freya and back. “Uther might have another trick up his sleeve. Don’t underestimate my father.”

Merlin has already considered it. “I think it’s the other way around. If Freya was his way to detect a magical intrusion, he utterly failed. You can’t expect loyalty from someone you’ve enslaved. But you’re right about one thing: soon, he’ll be informed about me being here and the power grid being shut down, so we’re definitely running against time.”

“Then we should go right now.” Arthur tries to lift Freya and she cries out with such agony in her voice, he stops. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Merlin?”

Merlin meets Arthur’s frantic eyes, practically feeling Freya’s pain vibrating off his skin, and his brain snaps in response, finding the answer. There’s help.

“Wait here just a moment. I know what to do,” he instructs Arthur and steps into the first cell.

“Merlin, where are you--?”

Merlin’s already back, untying the rope on the burlap bag he’s picked up and showing it to Arthur. “The Seolfor Thread Pendant, Arthur. Why didn’t I think of it right away?”

Arthur takes a shuddering breath. “What will it do?”

“Treat the wound, and without taking too much of my magic,” Merlin shares, taking the pendant out. “It’s powerful enough by itself.” The artifact is a small, round metal article made of silver pieces moulded together, on a short silver chain. It’s flat, slightly bent and covered with deep scratches. It doesn’t look like anything special.

Arthur eyes it with a frown. “Are you sure about this?”

Merlin smiles. “Ninety-nine percent.”

Arthur huffs and nods. “Pretty sure, then. Okay. But please, be careful.”

"I'll just stop the bleeding and numb the pain. We’ll have to deal with the bullet later," Merlin says and lights up a few floating lanterns around them. Kneeling, he presses the pendant onto Freya's leg just in time as Percy's tall form appears before them.

Merlin's done this spell enough times already to make it quick. Blinking off white sparks of tiredness shooting before his eyes once he completes the incantation, he feels happy, if a bit woozy, but the spell and the pendant have worked. The girl sighs and closes her eyes, the deep lines of pain marring her pretty features smoothing out.

Arthur's mouth twitches, the look on his face somewhere between concern and relief.

"I'm okay," Merlin assures him and takes Freya's hand. "Freya, we're sorry for hurting you, but we're going to make it right. Do you want to leave this place?"

Freya licks her dry lips, blinking away tears as she whispers, "Yes. Please."

"Do you have anyone you want us to contact for you?" he asks.

She shakes her head, another tear rolling from her eye. "No, I don’t have anyone."

"Let's take her to Gaius," Arthur suggests. "He'll know how to help her and keep her safe."

Merlin nods, looking at Freya gently. "Gaius is a doctor. You'll be in good hands."

Freya nods, whispering, "Okay."

"Percy," Arthur calls. "Could use your help here." And Percy carefully but decisively wrenches the chain open off Freya's neck like it's nothing but a piece of thread.

Freya tugs at the hem of Arthur's jumper, biting her lip, and everyone takes the hint, turning away to let her dress.

"I got you..." Percy says when she whispers that she's done, and lifts her from the ground with ease. "To Gaius, right?" he confirms with Arthur.

Merlin pushes the pendant, still warm from being used for healing, into Percy’s back pocket. “And give this to Gaius. He’ll know what to do with it.”

"I'm very sorry for hurting you, Freya," Arthur repeats, his tone mournful.

"It's not your fault I'm a monster," Freya murmurs with deep sadness in her voice. "It's my curse."

"No," Arthur says. "It's not your fault. The fault is with us who don't see past it and corrupt your magic. You don't deserve such treatment."

"Thank you," Freya whispers.

Arthur's responding smile is soft, bittersweet. He checks the time. "It's forty-two-hundred. Percy, get Freya out safely. Leon will inform Gaius of your arrival. Report your status once it’s done."

Percy disappears with Freya in the dark.

Merlin stands in the middle of the cellar, contemplating if he should attempt to gather whatever artifacts he can grab while he can and before Uther learns about the intrusion and the Bureau officers invade this space. There will be hell to pay when this reaches Morgana.

He hears a faint alarm going off somewhere upstairs -- and that's his answer.

"Shit." Arthur hears it, too. "Leon," he calls over the comm and listens. "Yes, go." He looks at Merlin. "Percy and Freya made it out fine. So it's just you and me left here."

Merlin, calm for some reason not known to him, smiles. Or maybe he knows where this serenity comes from and that's why he smiles. "Yes. You and me. Not such a bad outcome."

Arthur smiles, too. "No. So, what do we do now?"

"Now?" Merlin shrugs. "We run."

"Run?" Arthur asks.

Merlin nods. "Run the hell out of here."

"That's it?" Arthur balks at him. "That's your brilliant plan B?"

Merlin shrugs again and grins. "It's _simple_."

Arthur laughs. "God, I love you."

Merlin has no time to process those words and react -- Arthur pulls him in and quickly kisses him.

Then, they run, Arthur holding Merlin's hand as he leads their way out of the building.

 

~LDN~

 

"So. Is it a 'yes'?" Gwaine asks, not switching the gears to drive even after both Merlin and Arthur have jammed themselves into the back of the car.

Merlin pats the satchel hanging over his shoulder with the Triskelion pieces. "Of course it's a yes. Drive. Now."

“Let me see it first,” Gwaine demands, shaking his open palm at Merlin. “I want to see both.” Sharp gleam in his eyes tells Merlin he’s serious about it.

There’s no time, but Merlin understands -- it’s not about Gwaine’s distrust in his partners. It’s about the anxiety needling at his heart. It’s about his Elena.

With an apologetic glance at Arthur, Merlin sighs, and, pulling the pieces out of the satchel, passes them to Gwaine.

Gwaine weighs them in each hand, squints at the inscriptions, even taps one against his canine, like he’s some sort of an expert, and clicks his tongue. “We’re risking Elena for this shite? It’s not even gold.” Turning the pieces this way and that, he tries to fit them together, to no avail. He huffs. “I don’t get what all this fuss is about.” And thrusts each to Merlin and Arthur.

“You’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” Merlin can’t help defending the artifact. “You’re not even connecting them right. Don’t you see?”

Merlin grabs Arthur’s wrist, aligning the piece in his hand with Arthur’s at the correct sides, and as soon as they touch, it’s as if two magnets are pulled together. They click, glowing briefly at the seam, and the artifacts become one solid two-legged piece.

Merlin feels it right away -- the reaction of his own magic -- that it’s very, very pleased. Seeing how Arthur rubs the lower part of his chest, exhaling softly, Merlin knows that the Triskelion’s magic communicates the same satisfaction to Arthur. Brushing his finger against Arthur's, just to test something, he receives his confirmation: his magic surges up towards Arthur, thrumming at the touch, happy. So their connection is, indeed, real, and something special. And Gaius was right about the Triskelion's hold on him -- its magic is not as needy now that it's united with another part of itself, letting Merlin breathe easier.

He’d dwell on it more if there weren’t sirens wailing in the distance and they weren’t quite literally under the gun.

“Gwaine, do you want me to relieve you from your duties?” Merlin asks. “I’ll hire Leon to replace you, I will,” he threatens. “Drive!”

That does the trick and only then does Gwaine obey. Wanker.

 

 

 

 

"How are you feeling?" Arthur asks quietly in the car, pressing a bottle of water into Merlin's uninjured hand.

Merlin doesn't have a chance to respond -- his mobile starts to ring.

Reluctantly, he lifts his head from Arthur's shoulder. It was nice to rest there for a bit, letting his magic curl itself just beneath his skin and feel Arthur’s every heartbeat, drumming reassuringly where he was pressing his nose to Arthur’s neck. Nearing exhaustion, Merlin would have preferred this stillness to go on forever, but that’s neither here nor there because such is his life and he has to move. Reaching into his pocket, he winces from pain.

Frowning, Arthur murmurs, "Let me take it," and pulls the ringing mobile from Merlin's shaky hold, adding, "use the spell, Merlin." And then starts talking, voice confident, loud. "This is Arthur Pendragon, who am I speaking with?" He makes an unhappy sound, listening. “Yes, we have them…” He goes quiet for a frustratingly long time. "How much time?... This is unreasonable. We need at least another two hours... Well, yes, we do, and you want the Triskelion, don’t you? You’re asking for the impossible..."

Gwaine makes a distressing noise, glancing back at them from the driver seat, but Arthur shakes his hand next to his face in an aborting gesture and Gwaine shuts up, turning back to watch the road. Any other time, Merlin would actually enjoy the scene, but now he's too taut, too worked up, anxious to know if Arthur's negotiations are working. With his eyes closed, he tries to send his magic on a search of the caller; his magic makes a haphazard attempt to make a connection to the carrier’s signal wave, but it goes nowhere, only draining Merlin more.

As if feeling it, Arthur makes a soft sound and squeezes Merlin’s knee. A few moments later, Merlin sags in his seat, giving up his pursuit, hating that he’s too weak. Arthur’s hold on his knee eases, and, a few moments later, he lets go, fingers brushing over Merlin’s thigh.

“Why don’t you bring our friend to London instead?” Arthur asks the person on the mobile after another moment of attentive silence, and Merlin opens his eyes again. "What assurances do we have that she’s still alive and unharmed?... You’re asking a lot for nothing in return; that’s not how it works.” He sighs. “One extra hour, fine. We appreciate your generosity.” He rolls his eyes. “Yes, we're clear. We'll deliver the artifact as instructed."

“What did they say?” Gwaine asks when Arthur hangs up. “Where’s Elena? Is she okay?”

“The captors assured me that she is, but I couldn’t get more than that out of them. They gave us new instructions.” Arthur hands the phone back to Merlin and announces, “Looks like we’re going to Venice. Merlin and I must arrive there no later than nine-thirty this morning.” Arthur stops his eyes on Merlin’s hurt hand, his mouth forming an unhappy line.

“You used magic just now; I felt it. But you’re not healed,” he says, surveying Merlin’s clouded expression, and ignores Gwaine’s indignant, “To Venice by nine-thirty? That’s in four hours! Are they off their heads?” 

Arthur’s heavy gaze bores into Merlin’s as he insists, “You said you were strong. Or was that a lie?”

Glaring, Merlin sits up and incants the words, knowing his eyes glow gold as he does it. Arthur’s lips part and his breath hitches. The sight of his partner, staring at him in wonderment, gives Merlin strength and a sense of delight, unreasonable but satisfying. The feeling starts somewhere in his throat -- a suppressed chortle that grows warmer and bigger as it travels down his chest, settling hot and heavy and low in his belly. He lets the moment linger, turn from contempt into something else that bears a deeper meaning. He wants Arthur to want him like this as he is: made of magic, torn by it, weakened, and yet stronger than anyone Arthur’s met before, and better because of it. And he’ll do whatever it takes -- anything -- so Arthur always looks at him like he’s a marvel, and never wants anyone else but him.

“I will not lie to you,” he vows, and waves his hand, already rid of burns, in front of Arthur. “See? Not even a scar left.”

Arthur smiles. “I’m missing a couple of old ones myself since that night at Geffrye’s,” he muses. “And you said you liked my scars. You need to learn how to pace yourself, Merlin.”

Merlin leans closer, pressing his hitched knee into Arthur’s hip, hand slowly sliding up Arthur’s knee. “Are you sure? I demand a recount.”

Arthur tilts his head, eyes flicking from Merlin’s licked-wet lips to his fingers, gripping Arthur’s thigh. “I accept.” He settles his heated gaze on Merlin’s lips, and jerks when Merlin rubs the edge of his palm against Arthur’s inner thigh, too close to his groin. “Merlin, you-- Shite.”  
“Seriously, seriously,” Gwaine mutters, sounding not even angry, just extremely done. “Don’t do this to me right now... Seriously.”

Merlin and Arthur blink at each other, then at Gwaine. Arthur swears and they scramble apart, arranging themselves into something resembling decency. Merlin eyes Arthur’s crotch and makes a small snorting noise. Arthur flies him two fingers before placing both hands crossed over his lap.

Merlin and Gwaine are distracted (to Arthur’s relief, probably) by another mobile ring. This time, Arthur receives a text.

“It’s Leon and Percy,” he says, reading it. “Gaius took Freya in and said she’ll be fine.”

“Oh yeah, Leon left like his hair was on fire when you called. To help Percy. Who’s Freya?” Gwaine asks.

“Uther’s secret magical weapon,” Merlin answers grimly with a slight dose of sarcasm. “Who turned out to be just a young frightened girl.” He notes Arthur’s quiet sigh accompanied by the rubbing of his temples, probably as he's reliving the events at the Bureau all over again.

“Are you okay?” he asks Arthur quietly.

Arthur makes an indignant sound. “Are you seriously asking me this question when you’re about to faint from exhaustion?”

“I am not about to faint,” Merlin insists. “And you know why I’m asking.”

“Ah.” Arthur looks up at the ceiling of the car, taking a deep breath, and levels his eyes back on Merlin. “You want to know how one feels when their entire belief system crumbles before their eyes? That didn’t start tonight, Merlin. I am shell-shocked, yes, not going to lie to you, but only because I nearly killed an innocent person. I wasn’t on duty and it wasn’t exactly in defense. So yeah, it’s been a rough day, but this is not the time and the place to dwell on that.”

Merlin agrees that yes, probably, and changes the topic. “Are Leon and Percy coming with us?”

Arthur looks at his mobile; his frown smooths out and he clears his throat. “They should be.”

“Is princess,” Gwaine interjects, “feeling generous again with our transportation?” He changes his tone from flippant to respectful in a matter of seconds. “Mate, I know the plane is asking a lot, but what other choice do we have? Venice in four hours... Elena is in Venice?”

“That’s what I’ve been told.” Arthur shifts into a more comfortable position, seeking contact with Merlin once more. “Yes, we need a plane again. We’ll fly from City Airport.”

“City Airport, got that. Thanks, mate.” Gwaine offers Arthur a backwards handshake. “Did they tell you anything useful besides giving you orders?”

“No. They were all business.”

“Business…” Gwaine echoes and sighs.

Arthur picks up his mobile again and the car becomes quiet as he sets on rapid texting; Gwaine concentrates on the road, his nerves giving him away in the erratic tap of his fingers against the wheel; and Merlin thinks, _Venice, why? Is Elena really still with them? Is she safe? What do these bastards want with the Triskelion?_ He watches the pink sun rising slowly, colouring the sky behind the dark roofs of the houses and tall, half-naked trees.

Merlin doesn’t notice when his eyes start to droop.

 

“Did they tell you where we’re meeting in Venice?” Merlin, still a little groggy after too short of a kip in the car, asks Arthur as they walk across the terminal to their plane.

They’re joined by the pilot for hire. Considering how many hours they’ve all been up without a break, it’s only wise for Leon not to fly heavy machinery in such a tired state -- that’s Arthur’s decision and not one to argue with.

“No, they didn’t,” Arthur replies. “They’ll call you again at ten-hundred hours, local time. Very clever of them, leaving us without a thread to pull on. We’re going in blind.”

“Did you recognise the voice over the mobile?” Merlin rubs his eyes, stumbling over his own feet. 

“I’ve never spoken to this man before,” Arthur says confidently, brushing his elbow over Merlin for support.

Merlin doesn’t need it. Hastening his walk, he says, “You’re awfully sure.”

“What about you?” Arthur asks. “You talked to them.”

“I don’t know,” Merlin admits. “But it doesn’t matter at this point. By the time they call again, we’ll just have to deal with whoever’s behind this.”

This time, the plane is an eight-seater. Gwaine hands Merlin a bag with his “emergency pack”: a tablet that can be turned into a mini-laptop, two bottles of water, a spare clean shirt, a few protein bars.

Handing one of the bars to Arthur, Merlin rips the foil wrapping off another one with his teeth and bites into it hungrily. Looking around, he finds that the rest of the crew is already chewing on their snacks as well. Good. “They better have a signal here,” Merlin grumbles with his mouth still full, and pulls the tablet out of the bag.

Arthur laughs. “Or what are you going to do? Deplane?”

“No,” Merlin says seriously. “Take one of the towers with me.”

Arthur stills for a moment, jaw slacking. “You can do that?”

Gwaine laughs. “Mate, he’s totally having you on. Even Merlin can’t drag towers across countries. Relax.”

“Oi,” Merlin says, “maybe I can.”

Unlocking his tablet, he forgets that they were just joking around. They have a mission to accomplish, business to do. Business…

Business.

Merlin thinks of his first conversation with Elena’s captors and Arthur’s recent comment. Arthur tries to ask him something, to which Merlin shakes his head. “Get some rest, Arthur. The flight’s two hours. Consider this me taking the first watch. I’ll wake you up after the first hour and we’ll talk.”

 

 

~AIR~

 

Arthur stretches next to Merlin and sighs, waking up in exactly one hour, like clockwork, or someone who has a well-trained internal alarm. He rubs his mouth, grimacing, and sits up straight. Merlin’s hunching over his tablet and glancing at him, and Arthur’s instantly alert.

“What have you got?” he murmurs, his voice husky, but soft enough not to interrupt their teammates’ precarious sleep. 

Merlin scratches his brow. “I don’t have a lot to go on, so -- nothing concrete yet.”

“I’m sure you have something. Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” Arthur smiles.

Merlin frowns. “Huh?”

“Merlin,” Arthur says patiently. “You forget something. When I worked for the Bureau, retrieving the Triskelion was one of my missions, too, and I wouldn’t have done a good job if I didn’t do my homework.”

“Your statement is questionable.” Merlin finds it good fun to rile Arthur up a little. It keeps him awake, if nothing else.

“Which part?” Arthur plays up, visibly struggling to keep his face straight.  
Merlin waves dismissively. “All of it. I’d even say you’re sort of rubbish as far as secret services go.” He ignores Arthur’s indignant noises by busying himself with his tablet again.

“I’d like to point out,” Arthur whispers keenly, leaning into Merlin’s space, “that I’ve beaten you at your job repeatedly, and even left you a few pieces of memorabilia as proof.”

“I don’t recall any proof,” Merlin says. “It’s not memorabilia if I don’t recall it. And if I don’t recall it, it’s not proof.”

“What kind of logic is that?” Arthur demands, his belly shaking from suppressed laughter. “It doesn’t make any sense. Are you really the best the Agency's got?”

Pushing the tablet aside, Merlin sets his gaze on Arthur and says, voice low, soft, “Not the Agency, Arthur. You.”

Understanding passes over Arthur’s features. “That’s…” He coughs. “Good.”

Merlin smiles. “Good… Now…” He picks up the tablet again. “Venice. You said something earlier and it’s had me thinking since.”

“Go on.”

“What’s so special about it?”

Arthur huffs a quiet laugh. “It’s been around since the time of the Roman Empire, dating back to the fall of Albion, _Mer_ lin. My ancestors probably had a hand in forming its government at the time.”

Merlin huffs, too. “Don’t be so full of yourself, dear. But yeah. It’s old, obviously. What I’m trying to say is, historically, Venice has been an important centre of art as well as commerce. This city is famous for its wealth.”

“I see you’ve done a Wiki search,” Arthur teases.

Merlin knocks his knee. “I’m _saying_ , Venice obviously has some significance in this matter, and the Triskelion is the key.”

Arthur doesn’t comment, but his sly expression says it all. Merlin rolls his eyes.

“I know the Triskelion is _a_ key. Would you quit being such a git?”

“I didn’t even say anything,” Arthur points out. “But please, Merlin, do go on.”

“I’m trying to tell you that somewhere here could be good news.”

“How so?”

“Art and commerce, do you see? _Business_. When the bastards called me to say they had Elena, they suggested we work together like businessmen… They said something similar to you as well, right? That it’s business to them.”

Arthur nods, more pensive. “If it’s business, they’re not killers.”

“That’s what I hope.”

“Okay, but what would they want with the key?”

“You said it yourself, Arthur. Venice has a rich cultural and commercial history, going back to medieval times, the Renaissance. The city must have secrets that haven’t been told yet, and is probably bursting with undiscovered treasures.”

“It makes sense, of course. But it’s not terribly specific,” Arthur says.

“Go on, then, tell me what you know about the artifact,” Merlin invites him, yawning.

“For me, it all started when we received an anonymous tip about a possible illegal transaction in Vegas.” Arthur’s lowered voice drags in Merlin’s ear when he speaks; his attention’s slipping. “The Triskelion was described as a powerful and therefore dangerous magical artifact. There was no picture of it, so I was going blind. That retrieval didn’t work out for me, as you know. Borden was already empty-handed and acted like a tosser. So I had no point of reference until a couple of weeks later, when we received a report about the retrieved artifact from the Agency.”

“Hmm,” Merlin offers, having trouble staying alert, but still trying.

“When I was meeting with Mordred, I had no idea what he was going to offer until I saw it, and boy, was I surprised. But not my father, who did homework about Mordred before assigning the job to me. Mordred was a perfect scapegoat in his plan to secure his alliance with MI6. As I learned later, he staged an exchange that would give him and MI6 something good to hang over Mordred's head, and I definitely delivered.” Arthur pauses, rubbing his forehead. “I was so proud of myself that evening. I wish I could take it all back.” He searches Merlin’s eyes. “I wish you'd met him first, Merlin. I’m sorry.”

Merlin sighs. “I know.”

Arthur bites on his lip, thinking. “But that also made me see certain things in a different light, including my father. I--” Arthur runs his hand through his hair.

Merlin wishes he had more energy to assure Arthur that he understands, that he doesn’t want Arthur to hate his own father, but he’s also glad, so glad Arthur doesn’t hate Merlin and his magic.

Yet, he still wants to ask. “I’m still wondering about that,” he confesses.

Arthur leans closer. “About what?” 

Merlin sniffs. “What pushed you over the edge. You seemed to care about your father’s opinion most. And now you’re here.”

Arthur smooths his hair on the back of his neck. “I don’t know if there’s a singular answer. I joined the RAF Academy and later signed a contract to serve, all against my father’s wishes -- he wanted a political career for me. I also wanted to be a people's servant. To have a real purpose. Just not in the way my father envisioned it. We fought, and in the end, I promised him that when my contract was up, I’d come home, but only to work with him and on my terms. Not in politics.”

“So you did,” Merlin says, rubbing his eyes.

“I did. Uther let me bring in Leon, then Percival. He was generous with the budget for training, equipment. Gave us challenging assignments. My job was fulfilling, exciting even..."

Merlin nudges him when Arthur goes quiet for too long.

Arthur sucks in a breath. “After a while, Uther wanted me to do more: lead a larger team, develop a special training curriculum for better ways to seek out magic and those who used it, but the more I was involved, the less satisfaction it was bringing me.”

“How so?”

“I wasn’t sure who I was serving anymore,” Arthur says, and asks after a pause, “It was you who saved the MI6 officer after the boat accident, wasn’t it?”

Merlin grunts, frowning. “The accident itself was my doing, so...” he admits.

“Yes, but you tried to fix it. You didn’t just blindly follow the order. And I--” Arthur’s hand clenches on his knee. “And I did. Mordred wasn’t a criminal. He wasn’t a sorcerer. Essentially, I had a hand in framing a person who didn’t even seem to have all his marbles in place. For a moment there, I actually considered my part in that mission a success.”

Arthur shakes his head, frowning lines deep around his mouth.

Merlin covers Arthur’s clenched hand with his. “Mordred is getting the care he needs, he’s better. Gaius says he’s doing brilliantly. He even helps us now.”

Arthur relaxes a little. Nods. “Despite losing Mordred to you, Uther was happy with how it all turned out at the Swan,” he says. “He enjoyed watching Morgana’s chomping at the bit and I can see now he had no intention of returning the Triskelion. He just loved the game of cat and mouse.”

Merlin nods and offers a quiet, “Looks like. But it turned into a really dangerous one.” He can’t help another, jaw-popping yawn, slumping in his seat -- he’s too tired to keep himself upright.

“Yes, it did," Arthur agrees, grim. "I couldn’t support the dishonesty. So our fallout began." He stays silent for another beat. "Next time I heard of the Triskelion was from Morgana. It was when you and I… ” Arthur swallows. “When I came back from my exile.”

_Yes, when we broke up._

“It’s all right, Arthur,” Merlin mumbles, leaning into him.

Arthur shifts to accommodate him, adding in a quiet voice, “When I came back, I resigned. Uther declared it a clever tactic to shake off his friends at MI6. He didn’t want to hear that I was serious. I hope tonight has disillusioned him once and for all.”

Merlin thinks about it, rubbing Arthur’s knuckles. “But you didn’t have to take such a drastic step. If you simply stopped _helping_ destroy magic, that would be good already.”

Arthur turns his head to face Merlin, his features smoothing, eyes clear. “Not good enough.” He looks like he made up his mind a while ago, unwavering, and Merlin’s heart aches at Arthur’s next words -- at the keen honesty in them. “It’s true I'm not that fond of magic, Merlin, but I can admit when I'm wrong, and after tonight's events, I believe even more that I’m where I’m needed most.”

“Arthur--” Merlin wants to convey his appreciation to his partner, but his tongue feels too thick in his mouth, words slurring from exhaustion, his eyes closing of their own volition. Pushing his face against Arthur’s warm shoulder, he exhales and burrows deeper into his side. He revels in the familiar smell he’s met with: of detergent, sweat, and _home_. His magic, a warm, floaty thing inside him, unravels wide in his chest, thrumming in appreciation when their sides press together, as if conveying to him that this is right; this is how they should be -- connected at elbows and hips, always.

Arthur shifts even closer, briefly pressing his lips to the crown of Merlin’s head. “Morgana called me about the transcript a few days ago… She knew how I missed you.”

“You did?” Merlin mumbles, smiling.

He feels Arthur nodding.

“Hopelessly,” Arthur whispers.

“S’good.” Merlin breathes in Arthur's scent deeply.

“Right.” Arthur clears his throat and continues after a pause, in a more somber tone, “So. I’m sure now, that although the auction listing was a lie, it also was a lead. Have you tried to read the inscription on the Triskelion we have yet?”

Merlin shakes his head, which is an effort, muttering, “I don’t know those words...”

“I’m going to send it to Gaius, so maybe he can help,” Arthur suggests.

Merlin’s too comfortable, too sleepy to talk, so he sighs his assent.

“There’s one thing that keeps bugging me,” Arthur says, pushing his fingers into Merlin’s hair, giving his scalp a light, soothing scratch. His voice is fading. “The captors insisted that both of us had to be at the exchange. Why do you think that is?”

Merlin wants to offer an idea -- something -- but his mind is drawing blank. All sounds, words, everything present, fades away, Merlin succumbing to slumber.

 

**[TO BE CONTINUED...]**


End file.
